


Waiting Between Worlds

by ThatWildWolf



Category: Mass Effect (Video Games), Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Amputee!Shepard, Back to Earth, Coma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Family, Feel-good, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffyfest, Friendship, Garrus has PTSD, Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Interspecies Romance, Liara has PTSD, More Comfort, Moving On, One Big Happy Family, Paragon Shepard (Mass Effect), Physical Disability, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Rebuilding, Romance, Shepard Has PTSD, Slice of Life, Tali has PTSD, Team as Family, back to normal, just a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24443908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWildWolf/pseuds/ThatWildWolf
Summary: As we all know, the ending of ME3 majorly sucked. And so I have decided to write myself a good one—without the Catalyst AI at all, keeping with the tone of the Citadel DLC.Written to go with my fanart series on tumblr, this piece shows Commander Shepard recovering from her injuries after the events of ME3. Includes some Hospitalized!Shepard and a lot of Shakarian.(I swear to God, I can write, I just suck at summaries.)
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 18
Kudos: 52





	1. Prelude

Light.

That wasn't so unexpected, now was it? There was supposed to be a light... or a tunnel... She couldn't think too well, but she was almost certain this wasn't something she should be scared of.

She was supposed to... go into the light... Right?

If only she could remember what she knew was so important. There was something, she knew, she had told herself to remember...

There was... a bar, if she remembered correctly. Drinks. Yes. She was supposed to meet someone there. Or else, someone was supposed to be waiting for her?

The light...

That wasn't what she had been trying to remember. Wasn't what she wanted to know. There was something else... Something she should know.

A name.

If only she could remember the name... Maybe... Maybe that was the thing she had told herself to hold onto. What name? Whose name?

She didn't know.

Then, as if through haze, a voice... A familiar voice. She knew this person... Coming from the light. She squinted, facing that new development, looking straight at the light that was no longer blinding or overwhelming. Now it was comforting. A light blue, so pale it might as well be white. Safety. Familiarity.

A voice.

A name.

_"Shepard."_

She jolted awake, eyes opening, gasping for air as it all came back.

Her name was Cassidy Shepard, she was an officer in the Systems Alliance Navy. She was a soldier, she had been fighting—she always was—she had been fighting until she no longer could and now...

"Shepard?!" The same voice as earlier, except now the voice also had a body, also had a person attached to it, and along with it, memories and relationships and feelings—and a name. Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. _Tali_. "Ah... Doctor?! Nurse! I think... she's awake."

Shepard blinked—her eyelids felt heavy. She was starting to get a sense of the situation; of where she was, what was happening.

The steady hum of machinery was not the familiar sound of a spaceship's engines—and the ground felt too unfamiliarly _steady_ for that either way. She could feel injections of one sort or another in a few spots on her forearms—a feeling she was all too familiar with by now. By the distinctive smell of disinfectant and rubber, this was a medical facility of some sort.

If her body were willing, she definitely would have shuddered at the memories that suddenly overflowed her mind—ones of a startlingly similar situation almost two years earlier.

The steady beeping sound now increased in frequency, no doubt some kind of vital signs monitoring machine's reaction to her increased heart rate.

She took in a deep breath and held it in for a few seconds before exhaling, her heart now a bit calmer.

Finally, she could open her eyes.

The light wasn't especially bright, but to Shepard, it felt like staring into the sun. She exhaled sharply, squinting her eyes to bear this strain.

"Shepard..."

And now, she could also clearly see Tali, her small frame perched on the edge of a simple hospital chair next to the bed Shepard was lying on.

The tremble in the quarian's voice was one Shepard knew all too well, even if it wasn't something she heard often. Last time she could think of was on Rannoch. The voice of a person barely holding back tears.

"Oh... Hey, Tali." Her own voice sounded alien to her—hoarse and weak, not at all the voice of the woman who had rallied an entire galaxy to fight.

Fight... against the Reapers. She swallowed with some difficulty—her throat was dry, her mouth parched—as all of her memories settled into place. _The Crucible. The Catalyst—the Citadel. Earth. Garrus, Tali. Then, alone. A Reaper. Harbinger. Half-dead, alone. Anderson. The Illusive Man. Dead. She shot. Control console. A few last words between her and Anderson. Losing blood. Hoping it worked. The serene feeling of a job well done. Then, black._

Only one thing mattered. Only one question she felt the pressing need to ask Tali right away. The rest could wait.

"...Did we win?"


	2. Overture - Day 1

"So it worked." Shepard smiled. She felt as though a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders—one she hadn't been aware of until now. "We really did it."

Tali nodded, her gaze absently focused on Shepard's scarred hand, her fingers entwined with Tali's own. They had been holding hands ever since the doctors had left (having officially confirmed that Cassidy Shepard was, in fact, fully conscious and awake), relishing in the victory in their own, silent way.

"Finally broken the cycle of death that has repeated countless times since the beginning of the universe."

"That's going to take a while to fully wrap my head around."

Tali tilted her head. "In no small part thanks to you. Honestly, Shepard, every time I think you can no longer surprise me, you go out of your way to prove me wrong!"

Shepard smirked, Tali was closer to laughing.

"With everything you've been through, it's a miracle you're even alive! And to wake up after all that? Keelah. It's so... impossible!"

"Well... I suppose we've always pushed the line of 'impossible', haven't we?"

"Oh, Shepard, you have no idea how _glad_ I am to be able to talk you!" Tali surprised the older woman by hugging her—but not tightly, not fully - carefully instead. As if afraid if she were to hold her too tight, the Commander would shatter into pieces. "And that _I_ was here when you finally woke up! I can barely believe my luck!"

"Right... About that" Shepard moved her head to look outside the large window, but the fairly ambiguous flora outside gave little to no insight into where she could be. "Tali, how long has it... You know. Since... everything."

"Oh. Of course, I... I'm so sorry, I should have started with that!" Tali tensed, thinking of how terribly similar this experience must be to her friend, so much like the two years she had lost before. "It's almost ten months today. I tried to visit every day, I swear! I didn't always have the chance to, but I tried!"

Shepard looked at the terrifying number of cards, flower bouquets and notes at her bedside. She smiled weakly.

"You're not the only one who visited, are you," she said softly, almost a whisper.

"Keelah, of—of _course_ not!" Tali seemed taken aback by the notion. "You've... touched so many lives, Shepard!"

"Have I," Shepard said, but as it left her mouth it was no longer the question she initially intended it to be. Instead, the words just hung in the air between them, waiting to be replaced by something else which would break the silence.

"I... have to go soon. Is there anyone you'd like me to inform you're awake?"

"I..." Shepard found herself at a loss of words. "I... don't know. I... My family, I guess... Um, I say _family_ —I mean Garrus and my mom. I... really wanna see them."

"I'll do what I can."

Shepard didn't even know what to say now. "Thank you, Tali," she whispered eventually.

The quarian gave her one last look before leaving the room. "Of course."

Once alone, Shepard tried to stretch her body—and, with great horror, realized how difficult it was. Her limbs felt weak somehow, and moving them required more energy and focus than she remembered it should. Instead, she decided to start small and only focus on moving one arm.

Painstakingly slowly, she managed to reach for one of the bouquets on the night table next to her. There was a wide ribbon going around it.

 _To Commander Shepard: From The Grissom Academy 2186 Graduate Class_.

She smiled weakly and put it away.

The sheer number of get-well-soon cards on the table almost scared her. Some had hearts and rainbows adorning them, others balloons and cute animals... One even, Shepard noticed with amusement, bore the picture of a varren. Amongst all of that, one card stood out; a plain white one without any print on the cover.

Curious, she reached for that one first. Opening it, she felt the corners of her mouth involuntarily twitch upwards.

_Thinking of you.  
-GV_

She shook her head with a soft laugh. "What a dork," she said, even though she couldn't stop smiling.

Carefully, she put the card back on its place on the table. The others probably had much longer messages inside (mostly because Garrus had decided on the absolute minimum), and her eyelids felt heavy enough without reading more. Much to her surprise, she was tired again.

"That's funny," she said weakly as the world once again started to slip away from her. "I could swear I _just_ slept."

* * *

When she came around again, she was—once again—alone. But this loneliness wasn't as unbearable as the one before. This one at least brought with it the hope of seeing the people she cared about soon.

She hadn't expected to survive, to be honest. She had never once given any serious thought to what might come after the Reapers were defeated. Maybe it was because of that dreadful feeling that the entire war wasn't a valid effort but rather a rebellious stand taken against a terrible eventuality.

Sure, she had talked with people about "future" stuff, but it had always been purely hypothetical. She'd promised Tali she'd buy her a house on Rannoch and surely Tali wasn't going to seriously expect that. Just like Garrus wasn't serious when they'd talked about having kids someday. (Well, she _hoped_ he wasn't serious.) It was just a nice thought to keep them going, to pretend there was something to look forward to.

But now that this future suddenly became very tangible and very much _reachable_ , all Shepard could feel was just surprise.

She was genuinely surprised she was alive.

But now she was—and almost in one piece, too. (Only part of her left leg was missing, amputated after parts of her armor had melded into body after being hit with Harbinger's energy beam. She didn't want to think of it too much.) A good number of new scars, but she had long since stopped counting them.

She supposed, somehow, she'd always been a survivor.

"Guess I'm gonna have to start getting used to that," she whispered.

She flexed her fingers, watching as her hand still responded to her will. How wonderful it felt to be fully in control of your body.

A knock on the door made her head immediately turn in the direction of the only entrance. _Not danger_ , she had to remind herself. _The people here are all friends._

"Come in," she said. She tried to adjust herself on the bed to look at least a bit more presentable. (Not that she could in the hospital gown and with all that life support machinery wired up to her. At least the breathing aid was gone now.)

A stray thought ran through her head that she hadn't had the time to do her hair which was now not only uncomfortably long but also probably greasy, but she shooed it away.

Not that she cared much for appearances as soon as she laid eyes on the turian who just entered the room.

Shepard barely resisted gritting her teeth in response to seeing him. _So that sonuvabitch survived after all, huh?_

Laiel Sparatus leaned on the wall on the far end of the room, (probably wisely) keeping some distance from her.

"Commander Shepard," he greeted her with a curt nod of his head. "You don't look very well."

"Forgive me if I'm not smiling," she said dryly, "but yours isn't exactly the first face I wanted to see after waking up."

Sparatus waved a hand dismissively. "Your... boyfriend and your mother are... waiting in the hall."

Shepard felt her heart skip a beat. The relief of knowing, this time for certain, that her mom was alive almost clouded the idea of seeing Garrus again. So they were alright... She adjusted herself on the bed and was shocked at how much energy the simple act of shifting her body took. She looked down at her thin arms, more than one IV bag pumping liquids into her veins there. She felt so _weak_.

"And to what do I owe _this_ pleasure?" She turned her head to look at the (former?) Councillor. "Because I take it this isn't a courtesy call."

He smiled slightly, his mandibles clicking in a subconscious reflex. "Believe it or not, but it actually is.

"The truth is, Shepard, your actions up there cost millions of good people their lives." He noticed the way her eyes darkened at that news and quickly added, "But billions—no, _trillions_ —would have died if you hadn't done anything. None of us would still be alive, that's for certain."

"That's not on me. You have the thousands of people who worked on the Crucible to thank for that," Shepard said, and though her voice was weak and hoarse, she put effort into sounding confident.

Sparatus jolted his head at her, genuinely surprised. This was the same thing he had always seen in Shepard but thought was just modesty, fake or otherwise. But... seeing her face now (human emotions had always been adorably easy to read from their expressions), the realization hit him that this woman genuinely thought what she had done—who she _was_ , wasn't anything special at all. She honestly believed that.

"Well." He blinked, trying to get back to the conversation at hand. "Either way, I thought you'd like to know that it worked. The Crucible effectively disabled the Reapers. However..."

Shepard narrowed her brows. "What is it?"

"That blast of... energy... whatever it was... It not only destroyed the Reapers, but all of their technology as well—and I'm not even talking about the Citadel here." He inhaled sharply. "The mass relays have all been deactivated."

Shepard looked down. "I... see," she said after a long silence. "Thank you for letting me know."

"Certainly, Commander." The turian put his hands behind his back, now back to business. He moved to leave the room, but stopped. "And I hope it goes without saying that I expect you back in active duty within six months."

Shepard smiled. "Yes, sir," she said—almost reflexively, taking it like an axiom: Commander Shepard was a soldier. She would continue to serve until she couldn't hold a gun.


	3. Overture - Day 2

Garrus Vakarian was not a nervous person.

If anything, he liked to consider himself a turian in control of his emotions, only letting them affect him physically when he allowed. That kind of came with his line of work. When you have to be perfectly still because the slightest flinch could cost you your life, you learn not to let your heartbeat distract you. And when you have to constantly be alert, ready for an attack that may or may not come, you learn to choose your moments of weakness.

Many of those moments, as it were, had been ones he shared with Cassidy Shepard. As far as he was aware, it was in her presence that he could let his walls down, rare as that may be.

So while he was not a nervous person by rule of thumb, it was different when it came to Shepard. It was _always_ different when it came to Shepard. So, yes, he _was_ nervous right now, waiting in the hospital ward, his talons nervously dabbing on his robe.

And not being a nervous person in general, right now Garrus was feeling gradually more and more uncomfortable with the strange feeling of tightness in his gut.

He didn't care for it. That nervousness, that... _uncertainty_... It was uncalled for. He had known, from the moment Shepard's near damn lifeless body was first brought to this hospital, that she _would_ awaken. She always did. She'd promised him she would come back, after all—and if there was one person who could keep their word even through death, it was Commander Shepard.

So if he had always known she would be alright, why was it so hard to stay calm right now? He had made it through the last ten months. All the days and nights spent at her side, waiting for... anything. Just the smallest sign of life. Not what the machines said, not her blood pressure or heart rate. Real things. The sparkle of her eyes, the sound of her laughter. Things that made Shepard who she was.

_You're real. You're crazy, sure, but real._

That memory passed through his mind almost unwanted—and definitely unprompted.

Why would that be the first thing he thought about? Was it because, involuntarily, just like everyone else involved, he was comparing this situation to the last time Shepard had died? ( _Not "the last time",_ he corrected himself. _She didn't die this time_.)

That wasn't fair.

She didn't deserve that.

Garrus shook his head, leaning back in the very uncomfortable, very not-made-for-turians hospital chair. Even all those months after the war, the hospital was still full. Not surprising.

This ward was almost empty, though. Saved for only the truly hopeless cases. Besides, he had spent enough of the last ten months in that place to figure out access wasn't given to just anyone.

That was partially why, when he heard footsteps in the hall, he was somewhat surprised. This was day two. People weren't exactly supposed to _know_ Shepard was alive. For her own protection. If word about her got out, she would never be able to chase off the swarms of reporters and politicians that would surely come after her.

_That_ hadn't been completely successful, apparently. Garrus almost _jumped_ to his feet, standing up so fast he got a head rush. His fists clenched, his fangs bared, his entire body tense with barely controlled anger.

Laiel Sparatus.

Garrus saw red. _Millions of good people died and yet_ ** _this_** _son of a bitch lives._ Of course. And if that wasn't enough, he was already terrorizing the poor, hospitalized Shepard barely her second day out of a ten-month coma.

They regarded each other coldly. The silence between them was somehow more antagonistic than any words could be.

That didn't mean Garrus wasn't going to _try_.

He crossed his arms, calling upon his most deadpan expression. "Ah yes," he said dryly. " _Reapers_."

If Sparatus had been armed, that probably would have been Garrus's last words. But as things were, the older turian simply shoved him as they passed.

"Watch yourself, Vakarian," he said in a low growl. "You'd be smart to keep your mouth shut."

Garrus didn't like politics, and he didn't like politicians, either. Even if circumstances had pushed him into the position of one.

He was a—what was the human term Shepard had used? She called him that on a fair number of occasions. Never to his face, though... Right, a "loose cannon". Acting before thinking. (Well, _sometimes_.) In Garrus's own opinion, more like acting where other couldn't—or _wouldn't_. Doing anything was better than doing nothing.

"I'll remember that," he replied coldly. "Leave."

Only when the other turian was out of sight did he slump down onto the same chair as before.

_Just amazing._

Things were already getting out of hand. He would have to tell Doctor Namikawa about that. Assuming she hadn't known already. This was too fast, too soon. Whatever sick mind games Sparatus had tried on Shepard, the state she was in made her more vulnerable to. Too soon.

And _he_ had to _wait_?! Sparatus had been let in immediately, it seemed. None of that was fair. Shepard didn't deserve that. She deserved to be with people who cared about her right now—people who saw her as _more_ than just a means to an end.

Garrus silently reminded himself that he hated politics.

Another person walking down the hallway, heels clicking on the floor and echoing loudly.

_Sure is crowded today._

The woman stopped not far from him, seemingly as surprised to see him as he was to see her. She glanced around, almost as if to make sure she was in the right place.

Garrus narrowed his eyes, his mind involuntarily slipping into detective mode. She wasn't _old_ , if he could tell so, not by human standards at least, but there were some years behind. The way she walked and carried herself didn't exactly hide a military background, but that wasn't at all unexpected.

Aside from all that, there was something startlingly familiar about her, which he really couldn't put a finger on until she—however hesitantly—introduced herself.

"Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard, Systems Alliance Navy," the woman extended a hand, not unlike Cassidy would. Despite the rather formal introduction, the gesture seemed... casual, if anything.

"Garrus Vakarian." He shook her hand.

"Huh." Hannah Shepard sat down on one of the chairs, leaving two empty spots between them. _Not a great start_ , Garrus thought. He cleared his throat.

"So, um, how are you related to Commander Shepard?" he asked, trying very hard to start a friendly—or polite at the very least—conversation.

The woman looked up at him, probably surprised to see that this slightly trembling voice belonged to a six-foot-tall turian.

"I'm her mother."

"Oh," Garrus said. Then, as all of the implications hit him, _"Oh."_

_This day just keeps getting worse._

He tried to ignore that, however accurate, thought. _Focus on why you're here. Shepard._

_"_ Are you... not happy to see Cassidy?" He was going out on a limb here, using Shepard's first name, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Hannah Shepard didn't think he should be there.

"I haven't seen my only daughter in well over five years—during which she's died _twice_. So you'd expect that maybe I should get to spend time alone with her, not along with some random _kid_ from the waiting list."

Garrus turned away from the woman. 'Wow', he mouthed. Right on point.

_Okay. Just make conversation. It's not that hard. Pick a topic. Anything is better than this silence._

"So... you're an Admiral? You must be very proud of your daughter for following a military career."

"My daughter was four years old when my husband died— _by_ following a military career. To say that I'm proud would be an understatement. She went into the job that killed her father, and she made it her own."

Garrus winced—or as close to that as far as turian physionomy went. "Shepard's father died on Shanxi?" he practically moaned that question. "Great. That's just... amazing."

A little detail Cassidy had never mentioned to him. Not that he blamed her.

This conversation was a train wreck.

"You're one of the soldiers who served with Cassie, aren't you?"

Garrus nodded quickly. Anything to keep this awkward interaction going. He suspected silence would be even worse. "You could say that."

"In that case, you may know her better than I do."

"Well, I really doubt that, ma'am," Garrus said quickly, then mentally kicked himself because he probably should have addressed her as Admiral.

"Tell me, what is she like now? I only spoke to her twice since she was deployed to the Normandy."

"Well, ah..." Garrus really didn't know what to say. What was this woman even on? He couldn't read her intentions, and that worried him—especially considering that maybe, if things went well, maybe, someday, _maybe,_ she might become his mother-in-law.

He inhaled sharply.

"Cassidy Shepard is the most amazing woman I know and the most capable officer I've ever served under. Knowing your daughter is a privilege I'm going to cherish forever." After second thoughts, "...ma'am."

Admiral Shepard closed her eyes with a content smile. "I'd never met such a talkative turian before."

After that (particularly disturbing, in Garrus's opinion) remark, neither of them spoke a word until they were eventually called through the intercom, finally allowed to see the patient.

* * *

Shepard raised her head when they walked in, but it was clear it was close to everything she could do right now.

"Mom!" Her voice was hoarse, courtesy of many months without speaking, but her joy seemed sincere. "You're really here. I wasn't sure if that's something I wanted to believe."

The cool aura that had surrounded the older woman before now seemed to completely fall down as she rushed to embrace her daughter. "You can talk! Every few years or so, I find out that you have died or come back from the dead—I'm the one who has reasons for disbelief!" Pulling away, she smiled, her eyes shining. "You had your mother worried sick, young lady."

Cassidy smiled. "I know, mom. I'm sorry. I had to—"

Hannah waved her hand. "Save the galaxy, I know."

She made it sound so pedestrian that even Garrus, who was keeping his distance and watched in silence from the far end of the room, smiled.

Shepard looked straight at him, a smile of hwr own breaking across her features as their eyes met.

"And just what are you doing in the corner, Vakarian?" She said aloud, raising an eyebrow. "I won't bite, you know. You can come over here."

"Sorry," he said. "I thought you two could use some privacy."

"That was... admittedly considerate," Admiral Shepard said. Her expression said that maybe it would have been more considerate if Garrus hadn't been in the room at all.

Cassidy crossed her arms. "Have you two met?"

Garrus mentally winced. "We did engage in... what I can only describe as the conversational equivalent of a skycar crash," he said reluctantly.

Hannah Shepard huffed a laugh at that, surprising the turian completely. He sent Shepard— _his_ Shepard—a look that said 'help'.

She shook her head ever so slightly. "Garrus, this is my mom, Admiral Hannah Shepard. Don't worry, she looks scarier than she really is. I think." She tried to play this with humor, but the next breath she took was shaky and shallow. "Um... Mom, this... This is Garrus Vakarian, my—uhm, my boyfriend."

_He_ had said that before, but this was the first time that _she_ actually used that word to describe their relationship. Garrus felt a warmth spread through his body.

"Ah, I see," said Hannah Shepard slowly. She glanced at Garrus, but soon turned back towards her daughter. "That explains some things."

"Are you only nice because I'm hospitalized?" Shepard asked in a tone that was joking, but there seemed to be some concern underneath it.

The Admiral shook her head as she took one of her daughter's hands into two of her own. "Honey, you're a grown woman. I can't tell you who to date or not. You could bring home a vorcha if he's who makes you happy, as much as I care."

Her expression shifted for a moment and it was clear she wouldn't actually like it if her child were dating a vorcha.

She looked Garrus up and down. He almost shuddered, feeling evaluated. _Wow_ , he thought again.

Hannah smiled. "Besides, he seems like a perfectly nice gentleman... Maybe aside for the skycar crash remark."

Garrus wanted to gauge his eyes out, especially as Shepard laughed.

But the sound of her laughter after such a long time of fearing he might never get to hear it again had wondrous effects on his aching heart.

He didn't care for the Admiral anymore, or what her opinion on his relationship with her daughter could be, because he only cared that she was there, alive—and not only alive, but conscious and awake, able to talk and smile and even laugh again.

He collapsed to the floor, pressing his head to her breast, feeling the heart beating in her chest, eventually falling into a pre-crying state of uncontrolled hiccups and breaths. She was really there.

Shepard smiled and placed her hands on his head, holding him close to her chest.

"Well, I'm not stupid - I can see when I'm in the way," her mother said as she got up. "I think the two of you would appreciate a few moments alone."

Shepard nodded. "Thanks, mom."

"I'll try to stop by later today again, if I'm able to. And Cassie..."

Shepard felt something clench in her chest.

"I am... so proud of you. You don't even know how much. I love you, honey."

"I love you too, mom," she breathed out.

Once they were alone, she began gently stroking Garrus's head, her fingers tracing the edges of his fringe. He didn't move, still in his place on the cold hospital floor, with his head placed on her chest. His most emotional response seemed to have passed, as far as Shepard could tell.

She moved her hands down to his chin, but she didn't have the strength to move him in any way. Garrus sensed her intention and raised his head so that they could look at one another. Eventually they nuzzled without words, because none could describe that moment.

For her, it was the sweet taste of victory. Of knowing the Reapers were no longer a threat and that it was in no small part thanks to her as well. This was one of the very first moments after that final battle, one of the very first moments of peace in her life.

For him, it must have been different. After ten months of seeing her—not dead but not entirely alive either... This must have been the moment of victory for him as well, but probably a different kind.

Ten months. _It's almost a year._

"You waited," she whispered softly, barely able to believe that it was real. The war was over and there she was, with the man she loved. She pressed her forehead against his, a turian display of affection.

"You came back," he whispered back, his voice low, husky.

"Well," she cleared her throat. Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes and she blamed the hormone therapy that came along with her recovery. Commander Shepard was not a weepy girl. She fought to keep the unwanted tears at bay and smile instead. "As you may remember, I was under strict orders to come back alive."

"A soldier through and through," he said, his voice ringing with that characteristic turian reverb, now sounding almost like purring. "Why am I not surprised..." The slightest change in his expression; turian faces didn't allow much wiggle room in this direction, but Shepard had spent enough time with them to recognize emotions most of the time. "Of course I waited."

He pulled away from her to only sit at the edge of the bed. Her hand almost instinctively reached to entwine her fingers with his. She squeezed his hand gently, but he didn't do so in return - this was the same sort of delicate treatment like the one she had received from Tali. Like they were afraid of breaking her. Like she was... fragile, somehow.

She didn't like that.

But then again, who could blame them? It wasn't the first time they had nearly lost her. Not the first time she just barely survived. To Shepard's friends, it probably felt as though she couldn't be taken for granted.

She didn't like _that_ , either.

"I'm glad you're here, Garrus."

The sound he made in response wasn't enough to be classified as a word, but it was clear it indicated agreement.

* * *

**Bonus: fanart of this scene :)**

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there. Comments are a cool thing.


	4. Etude

She wasn't allowed to walk. Not just yet. How long had it been since she'd woken up? Something like a week. She'd tried counting, but during the first few days her consciousness came and went so irregularly that she wasn't so sure of the passage of time.

Tali had done good on her word and actually visited every single day—something for which Shepard was ineffably grateful. Her mom also came by often and Shepard was overjoyed to find out that all the time spent apart hadn't put a strain on their relationship like she'd feared.

But aside from the rare visits from her family and friends (not that she treated the two as separate things anymore), life in a small hospital room wasn't very engaging. Especially for someone of Commander Shepard's caliber. Even those six months on Earth just before the war had been more bearable.

She hated that she couldn't get up and walk - she had yet to be evaluated to apply for a prosthetic to replace her leg, and no one seemed to like the idea of giving her crutches to walk with. She needed to rest, apparently. Recover.

Screw recovery. She just wanted to be able to hold her gun again without her arms trembling. So far it wasn't working—her muscles had atrophied enough for her to require physical therapy later on. For now, she had to satisfy herself with a pair of two-kilo dumbbells - a weight which once had been nothing but now even that proved a challenge.

She had replayed all the games on her omnitool.

She was growing restless by the second, itching for any opportunity to get any physical activity.

Someone (she strongly suspected James) had tattled on her for flipping the hospital bed to use it for pullups and they had it screwed down. Great. Like that place hadn't _already_ felt like a prison.

Her conversations with EDI—now again a disembodied voice on her omnitool—were growing shorter and shorter even though she had been extremely happy to have a... cellmate, as it was. She wanted to _know_ things that apparently her family didn't want her to know.

Nothing. What was outside those four walls? She had only seen one hallway of the hospital ward when just once Ashley had smuggled in a cup of coffee for her. Where was this place? What was going on? Every time she asked one of those questions, they all changed the subject or ignored it.

Some friends she had. Shepard didn't know whose betrayal even hurt her the most at this point. Those people were her family. They shouldn't be lying to her, even if they thought it was to protect her. She _really_ doubted whatever was going on was worse than the Reapers.

"Secrets and lies," she muttered. _Bam_. Her fist slashed the air, her elbow almost perfectly straight, her entire arm extended to a point if extreme. No shaking. She was getting her strength back. All the cybernetics Cerberus had implanted her with probably helped speed that process along. "Smoke and mirrors." The other arm now. _Bam_. She imagined it was an enemy she was punching, not just the air. What enemy? The war was over.

What could a soldier like her do with herself in time of peace? The war was over.

_We won._

"Commander, you have a pending vidcom from Admiral Hackett," EDI informed her. "Shall I answer it?"

Shepard nodded curtly. "Sure. Patch him through."

The person who appeared in holo form in front of Shepard definitely wasn't an Alliance Navy Admiral. Not that she minded.

"Sorry for the deception. I had to make sure this call wouldn't be traced. You understand."

Shepard shook her head, smiling lightly. "Of course. I wouldn't wanna stand in your way."

"So the rumors were true. You really _are_ alive."

"I've been alive for the last two years, thank you very much," Shepard said dryly. "Technically speaking, I _didn't_ _die_ this time around. It was just a coma—doesn't count."

She shook her head, laughing quietly.

"I'm sorry. It's good to hear from you, Liara."

The woman whom Shepard considered one of her closest friends smiled lightly. She hadn't once come to visit. She hadn't made herself known before. Honestly, for some time Shepard had even suspected she might be dead.

"I thought you might like to see a friendly face," Liara said, putting her hands behind her back. "I imagine you're not too happy being locked up like that."

Shepard chuckled, feeling embarrassed for some reason. "That's putting in mildly." She sighed, looking outside the window. The sky on this planet was a greyish blue.

She furrowed her brows.

"Where am I, anyway? Sure looks like the Citadel, but the gravity's all... _off_."

"Oh, nobody told you?" Liara seemed surprised. "Cassidy... This is Earth."

"Earth..." Shepard looked down at her hands. "Huh. I should have known." She smiled.

"The doctors said your prognosis looks grim," Liara said. "And yet here you are."

"Liara, you're the Shadow Broker." Shepard gripped the blankets where her left leg would have been. "Do you have any information on... um... combat prosthetics? Biotic limb transplant surgery? Or..." She bit on her lip. Even saying those things aloud suddenly made it so real.

Liara looked down. "I heard about what happened to you. Doctor Namikawa made the right call."

"...Sure."

"She saved your life."

"You know, I've never met the woman," Shepard said. "I guess someday I'm going to have to thank her for everything she's done for... me."

She had been meaning to say _for you_ , but she didn't want anyone else worrying about her more than they already were. It was her mother, Tali, and Garrus that actually made her think of it that way. She had been more than ready to die when she entered the Citadel. Garrus had told her to survive, sure, but they hadn't made _promises_. How could they? They had all known it—that this had been more of a suicide mission than Ilos or even the Omega 4 Relay.

And yet, she survived.

And they were _so happy._ They were just so overjoyed to speak to her and hold her hand... How could she ever consider her survival as a gift for herself when it meant so much to _them_? It had always been them. Her family.

From now on, everything she _did_ , everything she _was_ , was for them. Everything for their sake.

Just because it made them so happy.

"Cassidy, are you crying?" Liara asked.

Shepard wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her hospital gown. She was surprised to see wet stains on it.

"...I... think I am," she whispered. "I just... I don't know. I'm... I don't _cry_. You know me. I'm Commander Fucking Shepard. I'm not..." She narrowed her brows. "You know what this is? It's this hormone replacement therapy they put me on."

Liara chuckled softly.

Shepard looked at her, surprised. "What?"

"Cassidy... It's okay to let it out. You've been strong for the last five years. Having a moment of weakness now, when it's all over, doesn't make you anything less than the strong woman you are."

Shepard smiled weakly. "How did you get to be so wise?"

"That's easy. First I had to meet _you_."

Both women smiled warmly.

"Where is this place, exactly?" Shepard looked out the window. The city outside was surprisingly undamaged, even for almost a year of repairs.

( _Repairs sounds like Reapers,_ she mused.)

"Warsaw," Liara answered immediately, as always fully informed. "The name's somewhat... ironic, considering how little damage the war had done here."

"I see."

"Cities like this—well-developed metropolises that weren't populated heavily enough to be targeted too heavily by the Reapers—have become the main hubs of civilisation now." She smiled sadly. "You're looking at the European main hub."

"Hubs? _That's_ what we call cities now?"

"Only the big ones."

"And everyone lives on Earth now?"

"If you mean species variation, then yes, this planet is now as ethnically diverse as it comes. If you're talking population, then no. This isn't the only place we've tried retaking."

"One last question, Liara," Shepard put a finger to her lower lip. "Who's _we_?"

"The Council. The alliance between the turians, asari, humans, quarians, geth, elcor, krogan, rachni, salarians, hanar, and drell. The batarians, most notably, have refused to join." She frowned. "They kind of hate you now."

Shepard decided to let that last part slide. Wrapping her head around the new political system was more important.

"So the Council is now... not an actual council."

"It's more of an idea. We've been trying to incorporate the idea of human democracy into the turian martial law, to maintain order in times like this. The political system used on the quarian Migrant Fleet seemed the most efficient in the end."

"And everyone just... came together?" Shepard crossed her arms. "Boy, why do I find that hard to believe?"

"It's hard enough to establish a central world government after a war. It's even harder to maintain it." A small smirk. "That's why we needed the brass."

"The Spectres," Shepard realized. A smile broke across her features. "Why do I get the feeling you had something to do with that?"

"Why, Cassidy, you give me far too much credit." Liara looked down at the ground. "I'm a simple information broker." She smirked. "Fortunately for me, that's a job that doesn't seem to be going out of business anytime soon."

"Riiight."

"In any event, ten months is a lot of time - I'm sure you have many questions. Please, ask away. I'll try to answer to the best of my knowledge."

"How many Spectres out there now?"

"The war with the Reapers brought heavy casualties to most special forces. Even with the high recruitment rate in the last six months, we're up to barely over two hundred official Council Spectres in active duty."

"That's not a lot," Shepard noticed.

"No," Liara agreed, "it's not. The title of Spectre doesn't mean the same thing anymore, too. A lot of the agents we have now are simply those who showed outstanding heroics during the war and lived to tell the tale."

"So it's a whole task force of two hundred war heroes," Shepard summed up. "That sounds good for morale."

"It is. And I'm happy to say Commander Williams is right up there on the top."

"Good." Shepard placed a hand on her hip. "Ash is a good soldier. She deserves it."

It had almost completely eluded her that Ashley was now her rank; that during the five years they had spent together (well, on and off), Ashley Williams had gone from Gunnery Chief to Commander and all the while Cassidy Shepard hadn't gotten a single promotion.

"Do you think my career's hit a dead end?"

"Definitely," Liara answered without skipping a beat. "You should quit the military, move to some desolate location, and become a shepherd. Anything else?"

"The asari have lost a lot in this war. I don't think the destruction of the mass relays was easy on your people," Shepard said slowly, deliberating.

"It wasn't." A shadow of sorrow passed Liara's face. "But it wasn't easy on anyone. It's not possible to say who was hurt the most."

"I guess you're right," Shepard agreed, "but my money's on the quarians. They'd just regained their homeworld after centuries of banishment, only to be trapped out here."

"I hadn't thought of it like that. Maybe there's some truth to it."

"...So, the batarians want me dead, huh?"

"I'm certain that if they knew you were alive, they would."

"It's still about the relay?" Shepard groaned. "God. I'm starting to really hate those guys. Look at the turians or the elcor: when they hit a rough spot, they get their shit together and they move on." She crossed her arms. "Stupid batarians."

Liara laughed—at first softly, but then she couldn't stop for a moment.

Shepard pouted, feeling like she somehow was the object of ridicule. "What's so funny?"

Liara covered her mouth, still smiling widely. "It's nothing. It's just that... Goddess..." She blinked, tears in her eyes.

Shepard tilted her head, waiting for the end of that thought.

Liara sniffed, her smile back on.

"...I had no idea just how much I've missed you."


	5. Requiem

That night, Shepard woke up screaming, her body drenched in cold sweat.

She sat up on the bed, clutching her chest through the thin hospital gown, her breath shallow as she tried to calm her pounding heart. She was shivering, droplets of sweat running down her forehead as she hid her face in her hands.

The breath she let out was so ragged that she almost didn't feel it. And when she inhaled again, a huge amount of air hit her lungs with an almost overwhelming coldness.

Feeling as if in a frenzy, she jolted her head to the heart rate monitor next to her bed, unable to bear the high-pitched beeping coming from the machine. She knew what that sound meant, she'd heard it enough times before to recognize it even in her sleep. Someone had rigged a bomb here. This would explode.

Her heart still racing, she tore off the straps on her forearms, freeing herself from the machines' grasp. Inside her mind, there was chaos. _Run!_ all her instincts screamed at her, and she did.

As soon as she left the bed, she collapsed to the ground, unable to hold her body's weight on the weakened leg.

Tears came to her eyes as she stared at the stump that ended above where her left knee would have been. _Fuck!_

_Run, soldier, run!_

She tried to scramble to stand upright, but once again her leg gave in under her. _Not in this condition, I can't!_

She screamed out into the night, a single sound of despair sent out into the blackness surrounding her, closing in, suffocating. It was getting inside her body, filling her lungs, drowning her, and yet she didn't stop screaming. She was an empty shell, a husk, driven to madness like those Banshee that had once been beautiful asari and now all they could do was scream out, and as she too screamed out, Shepard knew she was becoming a Banshee, knew she was losing herself, knew no help would get there in time to save her.

What had once been a scream was but a rasped spluttering by the time the nurses found her, curled up on the floor and sobbing uncontrollably as she tried to continue screaming out but unabled by her strained vocal chords.

Whatever they said to her, it was drowned out by the screaming inside her head, the voice urging her to get away from the danger while she could.

As if in a frenzy, she pushed away the attackers that tried to touch her, using her one good leg to kick them away, her eyes unable to fixate on one point, jumping from one thing to another. Screaming out, she tried desperately to fight back as someone attempted to hold her down. _No!_ She thrashed and struggled, but her grip on reality began to fade.

Slowly, she recognized the sharp pain in her neck as a needle wound. What... had they... done to her...?

She touched her neck, her sight blurred beyond recognition. She wasn't sure, but there was no blood.

"I'm..." Reality was slipping away, feeling distant, like a movie she was watching from afar. "Not allowed... t'die..."

Blackness consumed everything.

* * *

Usually when she woke up, she was alone. She'd gotten used to it, for the most part. It made the visiting hours all the more exciting. Also, she didn't like the idea of people watching her sleep, even if it was her friends. She found it disturbing.

Then again, _this_ was all disturbing too. First of all, she was pretty sure she'd had a really bad dream that night—and her body ached as if badly hungover.

"Shepard."

Garrus was the first person she noticed, but she had already had the time to get used to his company. It was the presence of the other two people that alarmed her.

She hadn't seen Karin Chawkas since the war, so there was some relief in seeing her now, but it was mostly concerning. Something about the situation felt tense, as if the air was thicker than usual.

The third guest in her little hospital room/jailcell/home was a salaran woman Shepard couldn't recognize. Something about her felt familiar, but she couldn't put a finger on it, certain she'd never seen her before.

Garrus nervously flexed his fingers. "How—How are you feeling—are you alright? Are you good? Are you feeling good?"

Shepard sat up on her bed, eying the unlikely group with some apprehension.

"...What's going on?" she asked uncertainly.

The three exchanged worried looks. Eventually, the salarian stepped up.

"Commander Shepard? I'm Doctor Namikawa. I've been in charge of monitoring your recovery for the last ten months."

Shepard blankly looked at her.

"I, uh..." _had been expecting you to be human._ But that she could not say aloud.

"Oh." The doctor caught on quickly. "Your confusion is understandable. My parents were human and I was raised here on Earth. That's why I have a human name."

"I see." So even this alien was more of an Earthling than her.

"Commander, after recent developments, I felt it necessary that I contact your GP. Doctor Chakwas was the physician assigned to the Alliance crew under your command, correct?"

"...Yeah," Shepard said simply. "That is correct. I guess she _is_ my GP if I ever had one."

"That's good to hear."

"And, um...?" Shepard's eyes trailed towards Garrus.

"Moral support," Namikawa said unsurely. "What comes next might be difficult for you."

Shepard looked between the three of them, now worried.

"What's wrong?"

"Last night, you had a panic attack."

"A... panic attack...?" she repeated hoarsely. Her throat felt so unbelievably dry she almost couldn't speak. She _could_ vaguely remember screaming.

"Well, yes. You kept repeating someone had planted explosives in your room and then when you couldn't scream anymore, you physically assaulted the nurses who tried to calm you down."

"I... don't remember that very well."

"I'm not surprised. You were given enough tranquilizer to put a krogan to sleep."

Doctor Chakwas put her hands together, leaning forward in the chair.

"Commander, do you know what Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is?"

"I've... heard the name," Shepard replied hesitantly. She didn't like the way this conversation was heading.

"It's a common condition among people who experienced a traumatic event—even more so amongst military personnel. It was even called _war anxiety_ back in the day because of how often the ones affected are soldiers." The doctor seemed to be avoiding looking into Shepard's eyes. "I don't want to presume before making a diagnosis, but... you've been displaying most symptoms for a long time now."

Shepard sent the salarian a worried look.

"Could you leave us alone, please?" she whispered.

Doctor Namikawa nodded her head. "Certainly." She motioned for Garrus to follow her as she walked to the door, but he just shook his head in response.

"Whatever it is, she can say it in front of me," he said quietly, entirely confident of his answer. Certain she would not send him away.

Shepard felt her heart shatter into a million pieces.

"Actually... Could you leave, too?"

A long pause.

"...Of course." The turian stumbled out the door, following the salarian with little enthusiasm.

Leaving the two women alone.

"How long have you been having these nightmares?"

"I..." Shepard closed her eyes. What was the point in hiding it anymore? "Ever since the Reaper attack on Earth. Practically every night on the Normandy." She didn't add it aloud, but it was easier those nights when Garrus stayed over. Those times when she didn't have to face the monsters inside her head on her own. Sometimes she could even make it through the entire night when she knew she wasn't alone.

"You should have told me."

What was she supposed to say to _that_ _?_ Nothing came to her mind but the truth.

"...I know."

Because, really, what else was there to say? She _should_ have told someone, and the doctor was probably the soundest choice, and Shepard knew she should have told her, but still she hadn't done it. Because there was always something. Because it was more important that Joker have his legs checked than that she'd had a bad dream. Because it was better for Garrus to have his bandages changed than for her to waste time on talking about issues that probably didn't exist. Because Tali got food poisoning and that was more pressing than her own problems. Because Thane had been feeling dizzy and that trumped her own depressive episodes. Because they still hadn't beaten the Reapers and that was more important than anything else, that was the only thing that mattered, and Shepard had sworn she'd see it through even if it killed her, so mental health was of little concern to her in the big picture.

It was always something. She had a million excuses and every one of them was a valid argument, but they all felt weak now. She didn't use any of them.

"Commander?"

"...Yes?"

"You _do_ realize you're not alone in this. Please don't hesitate if you feel you need to talk. If you don't want to in front of your family, I understand, but... please don't close yourself up. You've come too far."

She _had_ come far. So far. She'd done things considered impossible before. She'd survived almost every battle she'd fought. And now...?

"It feels like it's not over," she whispered. This was the first time she ever admitted that—to another person _or_ herself. "We may have won the war, but I'm... I'm still... fighting. With those demons. They're... right there. I can feel them, Doctor. On the edge of my consciousness, preying. Waiting for a moment of weakness.  
"I see them. Jenkins, Alenko, Pressly, Mordin, Legion, Cortez... So many more... Everyone lost because I failed them. They never leave me anymore.  
"At first it didn't bother me. I understood it. Soldiers die. But it kept happening, more and more often, to those around me, that I... eventually... Started to wonder if the problem lies with me. I know I could have done more. I _know_ I could have been faster. Stronger. I failed to protect them."

Doctor Chakwas adjusted herself in the uncomfortable hospital chair.

"What you're experiencing is called survivor's guilt," she said. "...I'm going to be straight with you, Commander, I'm not a psychiatrist. But still, I want you to know that what you're feeling is valid. All those emotions are entirely understandable and I'm certain that what lies at their core is that you're a good person who cares about others. The road ahead may be difficult, but I'm sure that with your resolve, you can make it."

"Thanks," Shepard whispered. There was a moment of silence. "...Do you think I need a shrink?"

She didn't like that. It was one of the most obvious signs of weakness, as far as she was aware. She wasn't a weakling— _everyone_ knew that. But there were things about herself that she was just only now beginning to see. She needed an unbiased opinion.

"Deciding to meet with a psychiatrist is a big decision. I'm afraid I can't answer that for you."

"I asked what you _think_."

"I think... following up with a specialist is always a good idea... And, as long as you feel safe, therapy _can_ help."

"Could you send Garrus in?"

"Of course." Doctor Chakwas stood up, the chair squeaking slightly as she did. "And may I say, it's been an honor, Commander. I'm happy to see you recovering so nicely."

Shepard nodded absently. She couldn't fully commit to this conversation.

"Thank you, Doctor. For everything."

She didn't have much time to think after the doctor left, because Garrus came back in as soon as he could.

"You were wrong." She didn't look at him, not straight at him. She couldn't. "You were wrong about me. I'm not as strong as you thought. This Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder... I have it." Shepard exhaled sharply. "They said that I should go to a psychiatrist."

"I know." For a turian, he sounded very flat. One-dimensional. Almost... _scared_."...I was diagnosed six months ago."

Silence. What was she supposed to say to _that_?

"Um... What did _you_ do?"

"Honestly, Shepard? What's the point? I'm going to be messed up anyway - and if that therapy could help someone else, I'm not going to waste anyone's time."

"That's not true."

"Are _you_ going to do it?"

"Go to a psychiatrist? Declare once and for all that I'm not strong enough to deal with my problems by myself? It's like sending the world a message that I need help navigating even my own mind.  
"But... I do. I think I _do_ need that help. Because I don't know how else to do this. And I hate that you have to see me like this, but at the same time... This is all I can do not to fall apart."

She shut her eyes.

"I'm _broken_ , Garrus."

"Shepard..."

"I never..." She lost track of her train of thought. Never expected to come this far. Never wanted any of this to happen. Never thought she'd have someone for whom she should be better. Never given consideration to those things happening to her. Never thought it could be a problem. Never wanted him to see her like this.

"I know."

The somewhat narrow hospital bed was more than big enough for just one human, but had he not gone straight to hug her, Garrus probably would have fallen off the moment he decided to lie down.

Shepard felt tears in the corners of her eyes, but they refused to fall. She buried her face in the nook of his neck, relishing in the closeness of another person. This was the first time in months anyone's held her like this.

"Don't leave me," she whispered, not even sure who it was directed to at this point. She didn't care who it was. She was not alone and that was all that mattered. "Don't leave me alone. Please don't leave me."

When he spoke, she felt vibrations where her head was pressed against his chest. A soft, low rumble. Comforting. Calm.

"I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Admiral Shepard hesitated before quietly opening the door.

She couldn't help smiling sadly, her eyes softening at the somewhat miserable sight of her daughter, once the single most dangerous person in the galaxy, curled up on the bed, looking so small and fragile that it felt like she could fall apart at any moment. The turian, Garrus, was there too, his body pressed closely to hers, holding her exactly how Hannah wanted to hold her—protectively, shielding her with his own body even if no danger could be seen.

Any grounds for doubt in that boy's relationship with Cassidy were undermined by that moment of vulnerability in both of them, eventually crumbling down and leaving Hannah immeasurably happy that her daughter had someone who gave her this kind of unconditional affection.

She smiled sadly, backing up to the door. She didn't want to wake either of those kids. They both needed sleep so desperately, after all.


	6. Ode for Cassidy Shepard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait a bit longer with writing this one because Shepard was born in April, but today's my birthday (yay) and YOU KNOW WHAT? SCREW IT. I'M POSTING THE BIRTHDAY CHAPTER ON MY OWN BIRTHDAY, SUE ME.
> 
> Warning: cuteness may follow.
> 
> Also, yes, I did write this as a birthday gift for myself, so do expect an enormous amount of Shakarian fluff and you can't get mad about it, ha!

Shepard hated being on bed rest. It had been weeks, probably close to two months by now, and she still hadn't left that godforsaken hospital. No amount of cybernetics Cerberus could have implanted her with would be able to speed up the recovery after something like this; it was just a miracle she had survived.

But surviving had been the easy part. The recovery would be long and difficult, and even then she would have to face years of therapy in order to function normally again.

She had told Sparatus she'd be back in active duty in six months. How badly had she overestimated her condition, feeling confident by her then-good general sensation. No. She'd be lucky to be back home in those six months. Wherever home was.

For now, this hospital room was home.

She wasn't alone. She had EDI, and a few fish swimming around in the small fishbowl from Grunt. She appreciated the gesture, especially how he'd specially chosen colorful ones to keep it diverse. The fish were actually soothing, especially for her nerves which had lately been a little worse for the wear. She found watching them calmed her down and helped steady her heartbeat when anxiety threatened to attack her.

She also had Tali, who visited pretty much every day. Everyone else apparently had other duties, but the young quarian devoted all of her time to helping Shepard feel a little less lonely. That incredibly selfless act of kindness was enough to inevitably seal their friendship as the most important one in Shepard's life. She had never expected anyone to dedicate themselves to her so much, especially when she had nothing to give in return save for some increasingly depressing conversations. Her sense of humor had taken a turn for the gallows lately.

She was finally allowed to wear her own clothes now instead of just the very uncomfortable hospital gown, now that she had been taken off of life support. She could also breathe on her own now—almost without external help—and she was extremely proud of that. More than she should, probably.

Another very welcome change in Shepard's life was the simple pair of crutches Ashley Williams had helped her get her hands on. (That _help_ involved a lot of bugging Doctor Namikawa about it until the salarian eventually gave in, worn down by the relentless asking from both women.)

She had soon learned that the hospital ward she had been placed in was a private practice and also reserved for truly hopeless cases. Ever since then, Shepard often wondered who was paying the astronomical sums of money for her staying at that hospital. (She was hoping it was some sort of government agency and not a private person. Last time that happened, she had gotten into a complicated relationship with a goddamn terrorist group.)

Yes. Slowly, of course, but things were getting better for Cassidy Shepard. Maybe the universe was finally giving her a break. Maybe her karma was paying off. Or maybe she'd just killed all the bad guys in the world and there was nothing left to threaten her. Who knew?

All she knew was that with every day that passed, she felt a little better. With every time she woke up in the morning, some of her strength came back. With every time she fell asleep and the nightmares didn't come, she felt a bit calmer.

It was getting better.

* * *

"Hi, there."

Shepard blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the light, as she chased off the last of her sleepiness. _Good morning, Commander Shepard._ She stifled a yawn.

"Hey." She smiled. "You're here early."

Garrus shifted slightly. "I would reference that saying about the early bird, but it always makes you laugh when I say it." Much quieter, he added "though I still don't know why."

Shepard sat up, mildly grateful it was him and not somebody else who had visited so early in the morning. She was still in her sleeping gown, no underwear. She definitely would not have been comfortable dressed like that in front of most Alliance officers who tended to visit her.

"You know, it's actually good you're here." She closed her eyes, internally cursing herself for phrasing it in the most offensive way possible. "Help me dress up?"

Garrus shook his head. "Of _course."_ It sounded like sarcasm to Shepard's ears, but maybe she was just tired.

Sitting straight up, she slipped off the thin sleeping gown.

In Garrus's defense, he was probably trying to play it cool, seeing her body for the first time since the war had ended. But even with all his effort, he could not keep in the miserable squeal he made, his only reaction to seeing her bare back - now burned and scarred beyond repair. Those wounds weren't fresh, but they were fresh to him, and as much as he tried to hide it, seeing her like this must have awoken all-new negative emotions.

"Mind you," Shepard said theatrically, "some men find women with scars attractive." She looked straight at him, hoping to defuse the situation with humor. "Though most of those men are probably krogan."

Garrus laughed mirthlessly. He shook his head, looking away from her. "...Here. Let me help you."

Shuffling awkwardly, by joint effort, they managed to get her into a pair of shorts and a hoodie. Shepard hated how reliant on others she was now, but there was little she could do about it. She would probably have to learn to live with it.

"...Thanks," she whispered.

The next few seconds were almost awkward as they both tried to ignore the last two minutes. Shepard looked around the room, anywhere but at him, and for the first time noticed the new addition to the usual simple flower vase and a few pictures she kept as decorations in the otherwise barren room. There were two new packages, one small and one even smaller.

"...You're here early," she said again, hoping it would start a conversation.

"I wanted to be the first one here. And it worked."

"First one—? What—Why— _What?"_

Garrus blinked a few times. "Uh... Shepard? Do you _know_ what day it is?"

Shepard narrowed her brows, thinking. "...Monday?"

"It's your birthday. It's... It's your birthday."

Now it was Shepard's turn to blink with surprise.

_Oh._

"Oh," she said aloud, because she really didn't know how else to react to that. Not only had she not celebrated a birthday properly for years, she wasn't even sure how old she was, what with the entire dead-and-back-to-life thing. She also didn't pay much mind to those things anymore—they didn't seem important in the big picture. She'd spent her thirtieth birthday under fire from a heavy geth squadron on Noveria—she hadn't told anyone that day, not even Liara or Tali. It was beyond her how people knew that date now.

"Before you say anything, I know you don't like flowers..."

She crossed her arms, slightly amused. "I'm not saying anything."

"Still, I understand it's the custom here on Earth to receive flowers or chocolate on one's birthday." He extended his arm holding the bouquet of flowers (the bigger package) in a way that was so insanely awkward that Shepard didn't know whether to laugh or to facepalm. "Here."

She gently took the bouquet into her hands. The flowers had been freshly bought or even freshly picked, because the stems were still wet at the very bottom. The water was cold and smelled like an open field, taking Shepard's mind out of the four walls of the hospital for the first time in weeks. A single droplet lay upon one of the flowerheads, distorting the image of the rest of the flowers when she looked through it.

 _Life goes on_ , Shepard thought, and for the first time since that one conversation with Tali it fully hit her. What had happened. What she had actually done.

Life had _not_ been supposed to go on. Everyone... Everything would have been dead had it not been for her. That had happened countless times before and thanks to the sacrifices of billions upon billions of people in all those cycles, that threat was now gone.

Life could, once again, go on. The drops of water on her fingertips, the flowers in her hand, the fish swimming in the bowl on her nightstand. Life.

It almost overwhelmed her for a moment.

"I know you don't like flowers, but I would really appreciate it if you said something right now," Garrus said nervously. Damn it, why was he so nervous? It was putting _her_ on edge too, and she really didn't need that.

"It's the thought that counts," Shepard said, putting the bouquet in a vase next to the fishbowl. "Thank you, Garrus. They're lovely."

"They're carnations," he explained quickly. "Your mother said that's your favorite kind."

"You spoke to my mom?"

Something flashed in his eyes, but it was gone too soon for Shepard to even begun wondering what emotion it could signify.

"Yes," Garrus said carefully. "Well... There was... something I needed to ask her. And once we got to talking, it actually turned out we have a lot in common."

Shepard narrowed her brows. She didn't know how she felt about those two spending time together. It felt wrong, somehow. "You do, now? Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know, like a deeply-rooted love for a certain red-headed Spectre..."

"Heh. Are you trying to butter me up, Vakarian?"

"That depends. Is it working?"

She laughed but did not answer that question, letting him work that out on his own. There was a moment of silence between them.

"Cassie?"

Shepard looked up. People rarely called her by her first name, but yeah, some did from time to time. (There was also Liara who had not once called her Shepard to her face.) And when Garrus did, he never called her Cassidy. It was always Cassie.

"Yeah?" She smiled, tilting her head slightly, that one word from him enough to put her in a slightly better mood.

"Happy birthday." He reached for the second, smaller package. "...And before you open this gift—"

"The flowers weren't the gift?" Shepard smirked. "Wow. Pulling out all the stops, are we," she laughed. "Looks like someone really wants to get some tonight."

"You're not allowed any strenuous activit... Aaand you were joking." Garrus scratched his cheek. "Right. Of course you were."

She laughed again, this time at how flustered he got. "Are you okay? You're acting weird."

Garrus didn't answer that, clearly bothered by something.

"How long have we known each other?"

She had to think on that one, and not only because that question caught her by surprise. It had been a while, and she didn't even know how to count all the time she'd been dead and/or unconscious.

"Four... No, five years," she said.

"And how long have we been dating?"

"I'd say, like two... and a half, I think?"

"Right." He nodded. "You're right. I... Crap. I love you, Shepard."

"Yeah, I know that." She laughed. "I love you too. But seriously, are you alright?"

"I... yes. In fact, I've... been alright for quite some time now. And I think you are the reason why." He gently grabbed her hand. "I'm..." He exhaled nervously. "Damn, why is this so hard?"

"Are you having a stroke or something?"

"I—"

"Happy birthday!"

The door was opened so abruptly that Shepard could swear Garrus actually jumped up.

"Oh, look—look, your mother's here!" he laughed nervously, quickly moving away from her. "And our friends!"

"Oh. Are we interrupting anything?" Tali hesitantly looked between the two of them.

"I honestly don't know," Shepard said. "...I'm not really sure what was going on here." She sent Garrus a look, but the turian was too preoccupied with pretending he didn't know her to notice it.

"So, can we..." Hannah looked around. "You know."

Cassidy smiled widely. "Sure. Make yourselves at home. In my home. My small, ten meters square, home." She rolled her eyes. "It's not like it's a party."

"Oh, it's definitely a party." Joker leaned on the wall, a big grin firm on his face. "We've got party hats and party poppers. The name speaks for itself, Shepard."

Tali put up a hand. "But, um, hospital regulations say no more than five people at once can be in the same room, so it will be a rotation party. A lot of mingling. We even have shifts worked out." She glared at Garrus. "Speaking of, your shift's not until eleven."

The turian crossed his arms defensively. "Hey, I was here first. And you know what they say. The early bird gets the worm. The, um, worm, being spending time with his girlfriend."

Joker burst into laughter. "Bird!"

Shepard covered her mouth, trying not to join him in that outburst.

She looked down. She had never once imagined one day people would be actually arguing over who gets to spend time with her first. What had she ever done to deserve all those amazing friends? _Not friends_ , she corrected herself. _Family._

Yep. Family. Her absolutely normal family with a turian boyfriend, a krogan son, an asari sister, three human brothers, a quarian sister, a geth son, two human sisters, whatever the hell Wrex was, an asari aunt, and an AI daughter. Whatever. It was her family and she loved them very much.

"So, this is a party, then," she summed up. "Is there a cake?"

"You wouldn't be allowed to eat it."

Shepard crossed her arms. "Of course."

A startlingly sudden shot filled the air inside the room.

Shepard stared at Joker who was holding the used party popper, confetti falling through the air between them.

He cleared his throat. "I thought we were gonna... No?"

Shepard looked around. Garrus, Tali... "One. Two." Her mom. "Three." Joker. "Four." EDI, who did not count, and herself. "Five." She smirked. "We're not breaking the rules, so sure. Let's get this party started."

Hannah winced. "But this _is_ still a hospital, so we can't be too loud."

"Let's do gifts first," Shepard suggested. "It's relatively quiet." She took the small box Garrus had brought and eyed it curiously.

The turian reached out toward her, almost panicked. "Maybe not this one—"

"Open mine first!" Tali interrupted both of them.

"Oh." Shepard was taken aback by the size of the present the quarian placed on her lap. "Wow. That's... big." Also surprisingly lightweight for its size. "Um... Thanks?"

"Open it."

Cassidy experimentally tugged on the ribbon that seemed to be holding the entire packaging together.

"It's a pet cage," she said flatly once the papers were gone. "...An empty pet cage."

"It ties together to my gift," Joker said proudly. "Guess who I found chewing his way through the mattress in your old cabin."

"Kaidan!" Overjoyed, Shepard reached out for her space hamster, taking him from Joker's hands. "I thought you were gone, little buddy!" She pressed her cheek against his soft little body, feeling the fur rubbing against her skin.

Hannah crossed her arms, frowning slightly. "Wasn't Kaidan the name of—?"

"Yes," Tali said curtly. "We all think it's weird."

Shepard pouted at them, locking the hamster inside the cage. "I named him after a close friend whom I lost. There's nothing weird about that."

"There is," Joker said. "But you thinking there isn't is the only thing that makes it bearable." He took out a book-sized present from his bag. "If you put the cage away, I'll be happy to give you the proper part of my gift."

She placed the cage next to the fishbowl, smiling widely. This place was starting to feel like home now. All she needed now was a couple of model spaceships... She eyed Joker's present, absently noticing it was just the right size for a Normandy model.

"Alright, give it to me."

She could get used to that. Hell, birthday parties were fun. Maybe she should have celebrated the last few after all.

That thought was put on hold after she unpacked the present. _The fuck?_

Joker grinned proudly.

"It's a copy of Francis Kitt's Hamlet with all-elcor cast!"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." For her 35th birthday, after saving the whole goddamn world, _that_ was what she got?

"Thought you might be bored in here," Joker explained with a laugh.

If she could, Shepard would have been at his throat. As it was, she just settled for hateful looks.

"Well, _that's_ not going to be easy to top," Garrus laughed. Shepard sent him a killing glare, the same one that had been reserved for Joker up until then. "Still..." His voice was more uncertain now, almost like he was afraid. "I'm going to try."

Shepard realized she was still holding the little gift from him. But why her holding it would scare him she could _not_ understand. _Turians are weird._ _Actually, no, scratch that._ Men _are weird._

She tore the wrapping paper away eagerly, at this point convinced that whatever he had bought couldn't be worse than the present from Joker.

Below the packaging was just another box. Satin, fancy.

"Wait, no." Shepard felt her heartbeat increase. _No_. "Garrus, what are you—"

She'd seen something like this before. Liara had shown her one once, a lifetime ago.

A silver ring adorned with four precious stones from Thessia, Sur'Kesh, Palaven, and Earth.

She almost dropped the box, tears coming to her eyes when Garrus, now down on one knee, grabbed her hand.

"I _was_ going to wait until we were alone, but now that you've _ruined_ it..."

Shepard chuckled, covering her mouth. She had to sniff to fight back the tears.

"Will you—"

"Yes," she said quickly. No need to overthink this one. "I—Yes."

Hannah smiled, putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Honey... Let him finish."

"Right." She cleared her throat, the widest smile she had known on her face—and this one wasn't going away. "Sorry."

Garrus inhaled sharply.

"Cassidy Mary-Anne Shepard, will you marry me?"

She had to bite on her lip not to burst into tears right then and there. The next breath she took was ragged and barely enough to manage a response.

"Garrus Vakarian, I will marry you." Damn it, tears. She wiped them away. "Anyday."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking back, I think that out of all the chapters this fic has had so far, this is the one that is the most "keeping with the tone of the Citadel DLC" like it says on the cover lol


	7. Dirge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon Legion's pronouns as it/its, just a heads-up in case you might find it confusing to read.
> 
> Also, this had been supposed to be a Halloween special, but you know what, I have never celebrated Halloween and really I'm not in that mood this time of year anyway, and this is all just a very roundabout way of saying that I've written an All Saints' Day special. Which I don't think is something anyone ever has done before, but oh well.

Shepard mumbled a swear when the flame from her lighter grazed her fingers.

"Fuck."

It had been too long since she'd done any kind of precise work with her hands and it showed.

Her hands shaking from the cold, she managed to carefully light the candle. She held it close to her body for a few more moments, shielding the still fragile flame from the wind.

_The songs of the dead are the laments of the living._

She placed the candle on the ground among so many others. It was small and humble even for a soldier's, but she didn't want to stand out. People already stared at her whenever she went out in public.

She stood up, her metal leg squeaking quietly as she did so. She'd have to have Tali or Garrus take a look at it sometime soon. The joints had been kind of squeaky lately.

She looked up at the wall that loomed over her. This monument was a thousand times larger than the simple memorial wall back on the Normandy, and the names on it were carved in a much much smaller size, and yet it somehow felt very similar. For some part, they were the same names. All the soldiers who had died in the war. There was no stone for the civilian lives lost. There had been too many. All the other monuments didn't mention people by name. Too many had died or been lost otherwise. It was impossible to account for all the casualties.

Shepard looked up at the wall just above where she had placed her simple candle, searching the tiny, densely-packed letters for one name in particular.

_Thane Krios._

She sent out a silent prayer for Thane's soul, just like he would have done for her. Just like he already had.

She exhaled sharply. Her breath got all misty when it mixed with the cold air around her and Shepard pulled on the hood of her jacket. The gloves she was wearing were fingerless and she regretted that decision. She felt like she was going to freeze.

_Kalahira, Arashu, accept this soul. Take him into your care so that he can get his well-deserved rest._

She felt kind of strange praying to someone else's gods, but it was what Thane deserved. And after all he had done for her, even on his deathbed... That last prayer... Even knowing he was about to die, he chose to pray for her soul instead of his own.

"I hope you found peace," she whispered.

She knew Mordin's name was also on the wall somewhere, but she had not had luck finding it in all the times she'd been here. It was a very large monument and the names very very small, some of them very high.

Legion was not listed among the dead.

She doubted it ever would be. Its sacrifice would probably be forgotten, even though had it not been for it, all the geth Shepard knew now would be little more than what Rachni were - just relays of a hive mind, like what Legion itself had been when they'd first met. Now, they had their own personalities and separate lives. In sacrificing itself, Legion had given its species a new life beyond anything ever before.

Shepard had a few geth friends now. It surprised her how different they were from Legion. They were as diverse as any organic species now. Every person was different. She was experiencing evolution happening before her very eyes.

What surprised her the most was that while some geth had decided to adapt a gender the organics would understand (most often masculine or non-binary), the large majority had decided to stay with the it/its pronouns. She didn't hope to ever fully understand the geth, but that was something that truly baffled her.

"Commander."

Shepard stirred as if awoken from a trance. She could see her breath in the cold air in front of her and her hands were kind of trembling, but the sight of the soldier who stood next to her warmed her heart a bit.

She nodded her head.

"Lieutenant."

They stood in silence for a while.

"What a time to be alive, huh?" Ashley laughed sadly.

Shepard smiled.

"When isn't?" she retorted.

"Ha. Good one."

Silence fell again. Ashley sighed. Hesitantly, she reached into her bag and pulled out a votive candle. She patted her pockets and began fumbling with the bag, but Shepard just offered her her own lighter. The younger soldier accepted without a word.

She lit the candle and placed amid all others on the ground. Instead of getting up immediately like Shepard had, she whispered a prayer.

"I didn't lose anyone," she said, answering the unspoken question. "But my sister's husband died in the first few days of the war."

Shepard looked up at the looming monument above them.

"Most of those people did," she said quietly.

"Is this why you didn't quit the military?"

Shepard looked up, surprised.

Ashley bit her cheek. "...I'm sorry. That's personal. Shouldn't have asked."

"You didn't quit either," Shepard noticed. "Something there, probably." She sighed. "...It's a bad day for this sort of conversation."

"Is it? I never would have pegged you as the superstitious kind, ma'am." Ashley put her hands in the pockets of her thick parka. (It looked much warmer than the coat Shepard was wearing.) "Most marines aren't."

"So you _don't_ think it's a sign of death? You and me, meeting here, by chance. It's nothing short of a graveyard." Shepard looked down. "The only reason we don't have those is 'cause the Reapers rarely left bodies behind."

"A sign of death," Ashley repeated quietly. She looked up and Shepard unwittingly followed her gaze. The sky above them was greyish, but still undoubtedly blue. There were hardly any clouds around. "A sign of death?" She shook her head, probably to herself. She turned to Shepard. "I don't think it is. Death follows us around anyway. It always has. From the very beginning on Eden Prime. Then on Virmire."

_"That's_ not fair. We both made it out of Virmire." Shepard crossed her arms.

"But you had a tough call to make."

"Adding names to the memorial wall on the Normandy..." She reached out to touch the cold stone of the monument. "At times it felt like that was my only job. Yeah... Virmire _was_ a... a low point for me. I kept thinking, you know? _Could_ we have saved them? What could I have done to get _everyone_ out? Where had I made the mistake?" She closed her eyes. "I stopped eventually. You have to accept these things or else you'll go crazy over them."

"Thank you."

"I haven't done anything."

"Not now." Ashley looked down. "Back then. I know how easy it could have been to turn back and return for the other team."

"Wouldn't have had time to save you guys if we had," Shepard replied simply. "I've thought this through more times than you can believe. I made the right call."

"I'm sorry about Kaidan."

"He was a good soldier. I know you were friends." She sighed. "Just one of the many we've lost, huh? God..."

"He was ready to die, though. A commodity most soldiers don't get. He knew it was coming."

"Isn't that worse?" Shepard crossed her arms. "Let me tell you one thing: dying in that Collector attack was way less traumatic than what happened with the Catalyst." She shut her eyes. "I don't envy Kaidan Alenko. He must have been terrified."

"I have to know. Sorry. Was there... something between you?"

"Hah. There... I feel like there could have been. Maybe." Shepard laughed sadly. "We'll never find out, I suppose. And that's fine, too. I... _really_ can't complain."

"Right, I heard you got engaged! Congratulations."

"Thanks." Shepard rubbed her hands together, but it produced very little warmth. Her nose was very damn cold, too. "Listen, Ash, I'm freezing here. Do you want to maybe go grab a cup of coffee?"

"With _Commander Shepard?"_ Ashley smiled. "Always."


End file.
